Monday, 22 May 2017

Good news - as the renovation of my atelier
d’art is progressing slowly but steadily, I have managed to reclaim my
number one metier, painting. And for
once I am not talking about painting walls, but painting as in fine art and
illustration. Although the emphasis of
this blog has been on the renovation and restoration of our house here in Mazamet,
I feel it is time to come clean about my artistic endeavours also, as I am currently
embarking on a painting project about Chez
Nous and more widely, the region I am lucky to live in.

Getting back on my vocation full time has been
both weird and wonderful after focussing on other projects for nearly six
months. On top of that, the last time I
set out to paint a coherent body of work to be exhibited together was for my
degree show, back in Edinburgh College of Art in the Auld Reekie in 2014! To best
explain what I plan to establish by painting a series of pieces about my own
dwelling, I better start from the beginning… of what my art is all about in the
first place:

Some of my earlier paintings from 2006 to 2010

Some people see themselves as artists primarily, but I have always
been a painter. Working towards perfecting my trade through
mastering different materials, repeated sketching or meticulous base-work such
as priming my own canvasses is very important to me. It has been a long road to find out what my
preferred subjects are, from early works inspired by art nouveau and surrealism
to brash portraits of objects commanding to be gazed at, but at this point of
my career I am most inspired by different materials and patterns, iconic brands
and cherished things. Acknowledging the
weight of the history of art so far, as well as the significance of colour in
two dimensional art, I still want my pieces to be playful. The concept of nostalgia, too, plays a huge part
in my way of painting things and wanting to inspire the viewer to start paying
attention to the beauty found in everyday: how we dress ourselves, the products
we consume, advertisement, signage, décor…
I firmly believe most things around us deserve a second look and by
elevating mundane subjects into art by painting them in larger than life scale
on canvas, is my way of doing so.

Some of my most recent, pattern based pieces

But leaving my artists manifesto aside, by
choosing to paint my house, my home,
and exhibit the pieces for all the world to see, is my way of documenting what
is here and paying tribute to the people who built this lovely house as their
home over a century ago. This house is a
treasure chest of ideas for a pattern-obsessed painter and a history buff: The wallpapers alone would keep me busy for
years in the studio, not to mention the intricate tilework and the plaster
details with their hidden symbols. And
there are many homes just like mine on this street alone, some occupied, but
many waiting for a fool of a renovator to take them on and love them
again.

Mazamet used to be one of the richest regional
towns in France with more gold stored in its banks than in the branches of
Paris. The textile, leather and
pelt-industries created a steady stream of wealth making it possible for merchants
of all classes, including the cheesemongers who set up shop in Chez Nous, to build beautiful houses,
using the most fashionable materials and decorating them stylishly following the
latest trends. It looked like the economic
growth was never ending; even the wars did not stop the production in the
Montagne Noire - if anything the war effort meant more business for the local
mills producing textiles and gear for the military. But come 1970’s and the rules of commerce had
changed: The local producers could no
longer keep up with the competition once the cheap imports started flooding in
from Asia, China in particular. Today
hardly anything is left from the glory days of the industrial dominance of this
region, except the hollow shells of the factories scattered along the waterways
tricking down from the mountain.

Old postcards of Mazamet showing the town centre, processing of pelts - a key industry for the region and one of the now abandoned factories.

With no work and mounting social problems, people
that grew up here were forced to look for their fortunes elsewhere, leaving homes
built by their ancestors behind. These properties
soon lost their value and small townhouses as well as the grand villas of the factory
owners were left to decay. Investment
and with it, new residents, are returning to Mazamet, though, have been for
some time now. The agreeable climate
together with affordable properties and its authentic small town-feel makes
this a popular spot for the English expats.
I have hear Tarn, our department, being describes as the best value for
money in the whole of France by friends who invest in property here. Due to spectacularly cheap rents for
businesses, manufacturing and commerce are making a comeback too. Just the other week I read about somebody
setting up an artisanal sake distillery nearby and the town centre is been
re-fitted as we speak to attract more shopkeepers and restaurateurs. Our mayor has a real interest in encouraging
all kinds of businesses and under his schemes especially young entrepreneurs
have had a change to start-up businesses in Mazamet.

Not quite the renaissance of the Montagne Noire
just yet, but things are improving. People’s
attitudes towards historic homes on the other hand, not so much. We have been able to buy and re-claim so many
materials such as tiles so easily because there seems to be very little
interest in preserving the old. From
every one person I know who is interested in respectful renovation of their old
house, there seems to be dozens who would rather skip the painstaking
restoration process and cover everything with plasterboard and laminate. Their home and their rules, of course, but
surely there is no harm in giving the old another change?

Small watercolour and pencil sketches inspired by the patterns of our wonderful encaustic cement tiles

By choosing to paint my tiles, the weather
beaten front door of ours or 60’s floral wallpaper is not to say this is art – it is to encourage the viewer,
you, to look again after something has been elevated
into art.What people take from my
work is of course subjective, but if it inspires at least one person to start looking
for the beauty of the everyday in their own lives, job well jobbed.

Tile sketches in blush pink, carmine and burgundy

Art does not need to be this monster that only
lurks in museums, knobby galleries and hipster bars – it is all around us,
where we choose to see beauty.

Painting is my way to engage with the world
around me. It is a way to document my
life and my feelings, but also a way to make a living, thus curated for an
audience. My work at its most truthful
lies somewhere between these parameters.
By creating art inspired by my own home I am turning something very private
into something professional, but in a way, this is what I am already doing by
writing this blog. These little
watercolours illustrating my thoughts in this post will serve as a template to
start working on canvas – canvasses that may one day be hung in somebody else’s
home. The idea of that is both thought provoking
as well as bizarre.

My front door.

Once the day comes to exhibit my creations out
in the big wide world, I will naturally be starting local. During my time here I have noticed it is
often those that are the closest that can truly be the blindest when it comes
to valuing our surroundings. And as it
is everywhere else, it often takes an appreciative stranger to convince the
locals that it’s not all just doom and gloom here. Mazamet really deserves to be loved again and
through my work, I want to be the one carrying her torch.

Monday, 15 May 2017

It all started with a catalogue. You
know, one of those supermarket add-magazines soliciting variety packs of
Walkers and the best deals on Birds Eye frozen macaroni bites. We get a fair bit of those here in France, in
fact they drop semiregularly into our mailbox, once or twice a week, from all
of the major supermarkets in the area.
First I thought about putting a stop to it by attaching a small “pas de pub” note on the door like before,
but as a homeowner, I thought why not
give the catalogues a try.

Who knows, they may even have coupons, I remember thinking.

Little did I know that a mag from Casino was going to change the way we would
use our balcony, a leaky, smelly and callous place, which at that juncture mostly
served as a place to dump smelly bin bags.
Like a good little wife I browsed through each leaflet full of special
offers and multi-buys, occasionally setting a few aside featuring decent beer
offerings or a tasty coupon. From this
pile of domestic misery, James spotted a set of patio furniture, a modular
sofa, armchair and a tea-table-combo, for a price too good to miss. As the weather was warming up, we wanted
somewhere nice to sit outside with our G&T’s and made a trip to the Géant
Casino in Castres the very next weekend.

The near impossible-to-assemble patio set with our riggity old table and chairs.

As you would expect, the furniture was a real bitch to put together. Made of composite plastic in charcoal-black
and casted to look woven in, these sets are fairly commonplace. We were attracted to this particular
combination, not just for its price, but because of the modular nature of
it. The furniture is lightweight and can
be made to suit various situations: it’s not ridiculously opulent for the two of
us and in the fair occasions we have company, you can seat up to five people
comfortably. The detail I was not
expecting to be pleased about were the cushions, which turned out to be nice
and fluffy, machine washable and moisture repellent.

While James was putting the pieces together in a drunken rage, I
contributed by removing the cushions from their protective film and complained
about certain men’s inability to read instructions. Happy times.

Having sorted out the seating as well as a pesky hole in the
fugly-but-functional fiberglass roofing, our little terrace was coming together
nicely. We chose to prioritise other projects
for the summer to come, therefore it made sense to repair rather than remove
the corrugated fiberglass sheets keeping the balcony dry from the rain. You see, the water had previously found its
way through the concrete base of the terrace, all the way to downstairs and the
only way to start managing this was to make sure the floor was staying dry. Installed sometime over ten years ago, the
fiberglass sheets were in a proper state, but seemed to be holding on fine
enough. After James replaced a missing
sheet and bolted it in place, this issue was solved.

This corrigated fiberglass had weathered so badly that on the first glimpse James and I both thought it was asbestos.

With relatively little direct sunlight filtering thought the dirty
fiberglass into this north facing sitting area, we get to enjoy our stunning view
without being burned to crisp - something I truly appreciate as a perma-pale
Finn.Sure, the roofing will go as early
as we have the time and the money to replace it properly, but in the meantime,
the situation could be a lot grimmer.

Our current collection of herbs and flowers.

The concrete base will also get dug up and replaced. For the time being we are thinking about
terracotta tiles, perhaps re-using some already in this house, but in the
interim the cracked concrete was covered up with a “rug” of synthetic
grass. We used to have this stuff
covering a few problem areas in our old gallery-rental and we both liked the
playful nature of the material. Our
garden, still a bit of a project, as is everything else in this house, does not
have any grass and likely never will, so putting down a piece of artificial
lawn felt like a fun thing to do.

Rest of the apparent décor, the little table and chairs, the herbs and the
accessories migrated into this place almost on their own. A north facing balcony is not the best place to
grow herbs, I know, but so far so good. They
add a certain je ne sais quoi to the
place and grow close to the kitchen where they are needed. My favourite of all things in the balcony is
probably the large ceramic statue of a stork, given to us as a wedding present
by a friend and made by her elderly mother who was quite of an artist back in
her day. The garland of LEF-bulbs is also
wedding related: it was bought from a Scandinavian household-all-rounder Class
Uhlson to light up the stage in our wedding venue.

Setting all things and furnishings aside, I am in love with that view. How could you not! In a clear day you can see the rooftops of
Mazamet, over the valley and all the way to the forests of Sidobre. You can sit comfortably under a blanket and
spy how the weather here changes in seconds and when the night comes, you may
sit back and admire the stars. It never
stops to amaze me how one view alone can be so engaging. Hopefully we will manage to extend this
panorama even further by opening up the left side of the patio by reducing the
height of the concrete wall that luckily is not part of the supporting structure
for the roof.

A room with a view...

Having a balcony that functions as it should has improved our social life
too as here in France, it seems, everybody smokes. Now, even when it rains, our friends can
enjoy their fag-brakes without having to trek downstairs to the garden. And of course, eating out in our place really
means eating out now. Even with the occasional bats, wasps and ants,
it’s a great place so sit down and relax with a hearty G&T.

There is a one last person in
the family that is yet to embrace the transformation of our terrace: Rusty the
pupper. He seems to find the confined
outdoors a bit of a drag and much prefers the comfort of his own bed. Well, you can’t please everyone they say… but
at least the humans of our unit love the transformation.

Friday, 12 May 2017

Life at N°21 is not just blocking holes in
the ceilings and endless scrubbing you know – I spend an awful lot of time just pissing
about, too. Between work, reno-work and
my vibrant social life (hah – as if) I like to craft. Twee, I know, but very relaxing. Last week we had the pleasure to host a friend’s
birthday party and what a wonderful excuse that was to make a ton of bunting. I don’t want this blog to be just about dirty
old floors and a bunch of dead folk that built my house so let’s forget about
the history of Chez Nous for a minute
and relax: Ready, steady… CRAFT!

You there, yeah, you - why not engage in
some serious buntin’ today with these easy-piecy instructions? You could very well harness your kids on it, as long as they are old enough to hold a pair of scissors safely, or
embrace your inner homemaker-goddess/god and fix yourself a smashing
garland. Because life doesn’t need to be
so damn serious all the time.

All you need is:

…plenty of pretty paper – this could be scrapbooking paper, wallpaper,
etc… whatever you fancy as long as it is big enough for your bunting. I used several 30x30cm sheets of square
scrapping paper that was patterned on both sides, but standard A4 sheet would work too.

…paper cutter or scissors.

…twine or string.

…a hole punch.

First choose your paper. I went with double sided square sheets of card
with a nice floral- and purple background, 30x30cm in size. Fold and cut the paper in half. You should be left with two rectangles half as
wide as they are tall, 15x30cm in my case.
One rectangle like this will make one “triangle” of finished bunting.

Don’t worry if your chosen paper is not
square – just create rectangles that are half as wide as they are tall and you
are good to go: i.e. 10x20cm, 20x40cm and so on, depending how big you want your
“triangles” to be.

Next, fold your rectangles in half, into little tents and make
a small mark on the bottom centre. Cut them into triangles by starting
from the top corners and aiming to the middle bottom mark. Cut both sides. Use a hole-punch to make a set of holes on
the top of your triangles, going through both sides of your tent-triangles.

Almost done now…

The last step is to thread your
bunting. I used rustic packaging string
made from raw linen, but yarn or any old string or thin ribbon would do. You can make the bunting as long as you want,
with as many triangles as you want.

Have
fun trying out different papers and threads and enjoy the buntin’!

This was really a "Happy Birthday"-bunting with the message spelled out using scrap pieces of the same patterned paper, but after the celebrations I simply reversed the garland and kept it on the wall with the blank side forward. Re-think, re-use and re-cycle guys!

So here it is - simple bunting
tutorial for craft-virgins. Some people draw mandalas, bake or go
jogging, but this is what I do to take my mind off work. Plus I like this old house to look
pretty. Escapism perhaps, but who is
going to pay attention to holes on the walls when there’s a bit of bunting up?

I will be back with more regular
updates on our little renovation project Chez Nous in a bit, after spending time with my hubby and our wee dog, as life, especially in the South of
France, should never be too serious. In
the meantime, what would you like to hear more about? Is it the renovation and history of this old
house you fancy or tales on the life in France in general? Did my bunting really get you going? Let me know in the comments or drop me a
message and we’ll see what I can do.

I love writing this blog but lately
I’ve felt it’s been a bit of a burden. To be honest, keeping it fun for me, as well as you dear reader, has been a struggle. If staying
interested in this project means less updates in favour of better content, so be
it.

With these words I bid you happy
crafting. Don’t let the stress-bugs
bite.

Tuesday, 9 May 2017

With all this pesky home improvement I
have seriously neglected my awesome day job: being an artist. I don't
normally take time off my work like this, but we needed to get this old house
liveable, move our gallery into new premises Chez Nous, and get
married in Finland. The house is in order now, somewhat, and we are
hitched, so it was about time to get the studio sorted out.

Luckily, as most of you know by now, N°21
used to be a crèmerie and has a neat little boutique downstairs, just itching to be
turned into an atelier d'art. We loved our old rental atelier
artichoc which had enough space for a big studio space and a huge
gallery but those premises had serious downfalls: even after we got proper
lighting installed, there were never enough wall sockets, no heating nor hot
water. All rather essential for an all-year-round event- and work space.
Even with a great landlord and good visibility, we felt like it was time
to move on.

Before setting up shop Chez Nous, there was this teeny-tiny
little detail to fix: a floor full of gorgeous turn of the century cement tiles
dirtier than a loo at a lorry stop.
Dominantly white cement tiles. Oh boy.
After the closure of the crèmerie, sometime in the late 50’s to early 60’s,
the shop front was used as a garage. Neglected
and barely sealed, the porous tiles absorbed all the grease, grime and dirt for
decades and were in a pretty grim condition when we got here.

We came to view this house on a warm autumn day and
the light filtering though the frosted glass was just amazing. Even
under a layer of dirt and grime, these century old encaustic tiles steal the
show.

Normally, antique cement tiles would not
be my material of choice for an artist studio for an array of reasons: they
stain easily, are incredibly expensive to replace if damaged and difficult to
keep clean if not sealed properly. But frankly,
they were here before me, and if restoring and keeping these tiles would mean
needing to take better care while working... so be it. Paint spills and
drips are a daily occurrence in a working studio, but with a proper sealant and
a never ending supply of wet-wipes, I should be able to manage any destructive
bursts of creativity.

Having had next to no bother cleaning and
sealing the other encaustic tiles in this house, I thought sorting this room
would be a piece of cake.

Remind me never to be so naïve again.

These types of cement tiles do not really
loose colour due to wear and tear as the pigment sits in the cement itself, but
they do, however, loose their protective finish. After the sealant is
lost, the porous cement is receptive to dirt that can be incredibly difficult
to lift by using your regular household products. Take my word for it, Mr. Propre was a
complete waste of time. In fact, any off-the-shelf cleaning product, no matter how specialised, had little to no effect
on the greasy marks embedded deep in the pores of these concrete tiles.

Heck, even the old de-greasing agent made no visible
progress, although it clearly got rid of something as all I
was left after a good couple hours of serious scrubbin' was a pair of matching
blisters on both palms and water as dirty as a sailors smile. The
clearest results were visible on the border tiles that still had their original
sealant. The centre tiles with a nice
burgundy and grey pattern on cream white background remained stained and
dull.

The tiles after a somewhat unsuccessful attempt in
de-greasing them: the border tiles on the left cleaned out a bit whereas the
tiles on the right did not react much at all to the scrubbing nor the
de-greasing cleaner.

This is where a lesser (to be read: smart)
home improver would call the professionals, but not me. No. I
did, however, bully James to call a few friends for advice and soon had another
product to try: a professional grade cleaner for cement tiles and marble. This stuff was PH neutral, smelled like
lemons and came in a reassuringly boring plastic jug. By design, you were to brush the product on
with water, creating a soapy foam that would sit on the tiles without drying
for 10-20 minutes. In that time the foam
would penetrate the pores of the tiles and lift up any dirt and grease before
being brushed up and rinsed with plenty of water.

In reality this meant half an hour of
intense brushing, letting the stuff sink in from anything between 30 to 60
minutes, followed by more rage-brushing, tears, and some more brushing and
rinsing. I repeated the treatment twice
and hated every single second of it.
Although I could see the foam turn into a satisfying shade of Yuk! on each rinse, the achieved
difference was near invisible to the naked eye after each wash. Needless to say, I may have been a bit
underwhelmed.

I did spy some results once the
floor had dried. The weather, although
nice and mild for most parts of the year was not quite so warm and dry as it is
now, thus prolonging the time it took for everything to stabilise. It seemed I had managed to remove some of the
worst stains as well as parts of the old sealant that had yellowed over
time. And this is where I decided to
call it. More brushing was only going to
start damaging these tiles and the dirty ones were clearly beyond rescuing, so
I went to my local hardware store and bought myself a big bad roll of wood-effect
vinyl.

Kidding.
God… just kidding!

I decided to live with it. These tiles have been in place since 1910 and
I don’t really need them to look now. A
few are cracked slightly and others still bare the marks of the space being
used as a garage… but that is fine. I
never wanted this floor to look new, just less grotty and this is exactly what
I think I have achieved here. After three
coats of fresh sealant, my studio tiles certainly have got their mojo back, and
in a way, so have I. After all, what is
a cowboy without their horse, an artist without a studio?

These tiles are not new but they got a century's worth of character to compensate.

TO BE CONTINUED… Next time on the same
atelier time, on the same atelier channel, I’ll be ranting on about painting
ceilings as a shorty, French neighbours and dog hair.